It’s been over a year since I’ve written anything I like. So when the first few lines of this one came to me at about 5am during insomnia I thought, well *deep breath* now I’ve got to get up and write a poem. I am glad I let it flow instead of dissipate. I like this one, as bleak as it may read. I have found a good publishing company, Christian Faith Publishing, but I can’t at all afford to publish right now, though doing so would be a dream come true.

I have been battling vicious schizophrenic phenomena (completely normal in my situation: “research shows that, especially for recently bereaved people, it is not uncommon to hear the voice of someone who isn’t actually there speaking to you, or who may even be dead” [Mental Health Foundation]), panic disorder, and (possibly manic) depression. My faith in Christ comes with powerful waves of peace and joy that last only a few hours these days. Stability is not something I find recently. I am still very heartbroken for my circumstances in this world. I even found myself irrationally acting out at my own beautiful mother just because she referenced the people in my life I have lost. I don’t even recognize myself in those moments. But I will continue to try to heal. And I thank God for the patience, forgiveness, compassion and support of my parents and friends and family. I am a fallen soul. It is God’s great love that gives me what strength I find. Praise Jesus.

Alone, Together (Ekphrasis)

It is together we have turned from God.

Alone, together, each turns back and prays.

 

It is together we grasp ourselves to time.

It is alone that we lose track of days.

 

To meet, we strongly seek a special place.

Yet each one floats adrift in a sea of space.

 

It is together that we joy and mourn.

It is alone we let go of it all.

 

The good we seek in each other, we find, forlorn.

As through fate each comes to terms with his own fall.

 

Adjoined to a mother’s womb as we are born,

It is alone that we release our form.

Slow, gentle, peaceful

little water dust.  Created

in immaculate

 

imperceptible complexity. By

many forces of this world. Pulled

from thin air,

 

released to go

where you may, sparkling

in front of the street lamp.

 

Swirling around. Slow, gentle,

peaceful

 

falling, shining in the light

supported by air

 

and your weightless

remarkable content.  Finding

 

true rest

 

long before

 

reaching

 

the ground.

 

My God.

Wind through the window is

Hope rushing into Our Soul

On a quiet day, living the Whole.

 

Chaos can be sought and yet

True Peace surrounds our ever

Growing hearts. God loves this world,

 

Fully.  Eternally.

 

So that in Whole it stays Sewn, and

Grown, together, while some things

Look torn into parts.

They poisoned my sweet waters

cut down my green trees

the food they feed my children is

the cause of their disease

my world is slowly fallen down

and the air not good to breath

and those of us who care enough

have to do something, Dad, what you

gonna do about me

I’m working in your factories, I study

in your schools, I fill your

penitentiaries and your military too

and though you may be stronger

now my time will surely come

around cause you keep adding to

my numbers and shut out people down

Dad, what you gonna do about me

what about me, Dad, what ya

gonna do about me I ain’t looking

for no more trouble but…

And I feel like a stranger

in the land where I was born,

and I live like an outlaw and I am

always on the run

Three plants in a pot

Sharing the sun and water

Surface growth varies

If you’ve written a letter to

an old friend,

or the president,

you ought not

you ought not

ought not to send it—

if either is smart,

they can take the weight of your fingerprints

to determine

how long you had

hesitated

to write sincerely,

 

I see his skull. Shadows

in the eyes. A moment

 

where sun flops on trees. Fish

 

for the breeze. Nothing

is never

 

far enough. Nothing ever

too close. Nobody loves

 

just one.

What if I live a life so
impossibly small
that hardly a soul
notices me at all…

If I crawl, hardly seen
like a meek little ant,
try to picture my life.
You can’t! No you can’t!

What if I pass along
all the rest of my days
without anyone privvy
to my cooped up ways

til I’ve hardly a hair
on my wrinkled old head?
I lay down in my bed
and I’m dead! Then I’m dead!

Or what if I dreamed
an impossible dream
and worked so hard to reach
it I split at my seams?

I tried hard and I failed
tried and failed, tried again
and accomplished that dream!
Well, what then? Say what then?

Do I find another dream
quickly, now? Find it now?
Do I just live in peace
but how? Just tell me how?

This is not poetry
saying you shouldn’t try
This is not poetry
saying storybooks lie

This is just poetry
meant to get at the stuff
that goes on in my head
when my head’s had enough!

Of its own clusterfuffle
It’s riggamerott!
The jumbled up jambles
crantorpously flot!

 

We all have our dreams
that we all want to try.
And we all live to be,
do, and see, then to die.

They say live in the moment
but you must plan ahead
They say make your own rules,
but then do ours instead.

They say that it’s best
to try to be content,
then say reach for the stars.
I’m not sure what is meant

by the mixed messages
we put out in the world.
So I bite at my nails
with my lip slightly furled.

I feel itchy and ansy like
I can’t sit still
Like I must do something
and I will! Yes I will!

But what, and but why,
and then what after that?
So I sit and blink
and I stare at my cat.

Oh how lucky the animals
surely must be
just to meow and to lay
and to sit and to be.

Not a care in the world
not a purpose to need.
Animals don’t cut themselves
just to see if they bleed.

Animals don’t use their
energy trying to find
a purpose to make them
secure in their minds.

They play when they play,
then they’re bored so they nap,
and they eat and they crap.
Eat and crap! Eat and crap!

So am I truly better?
I guess I can create,
build a change for the future,
and do something great…

But if I don’t then
am I like some human waste?
They say love thyself, then

accomplish! Post haste!

Post haste!

But I can’t and I’m done
and I’m ready to rest.
I gave this day my all
and I gave my real best.

What if I leave my rhymes
in notebooks on my shelf
and then nobody reads them
have I wasted myself?

If it adds up to nothing?
Oh well, oh well.

If I die in my sleep?
Then farewell, farewell…

 

I don’t want my poetry
to make you sad.
Sometimes we let things
out when we’re feeling bad.

If you look at the
earth from way above at night
all you see is the land
and the lights! Oh the light!

Maybe that’s just the thing
then, that we all must do.
If I keep giving my light
and I give it to you,

and you give it to someone,
who gives it right back
and we all start to glow,
then we won’t feel a lack.

We’ll keep glowing and
glowing with whoever we
are, just burning as long
as we can like a star.

We can sleep with a smirk
and awake with a smile
and there’d be space
for our sadness, at least

once in a while.

But when your head is all muddled
and things don’t feel right
just pan out to the heavens
and remember the light.

You may not feel good
about your least good ways
and you might be having one
of those ramtuqfurous days

It might make you feel
better if you speak in rhyme!
Or you might just need hugs
or just patience and time.

If you’ve lost all your purpose,
then be just to be.
If you can’t do things or see
things, just listen to me:

for I promise you this
just as sure as I write:
you might do good tomorrow
you might… yes you might…

She lived diligently.

And always with that look in her eye…

Sitting on the floor

In the back at the open mic

My back against a closed door

The music hits my ears like a pile

Of tin cans. You hit my soul like a deep

Tissue massage. I never asked you to be

Good to me. For crying out loud, I never asked you.